


This Life is Not So Bad

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, post-journey's end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:11:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Life is Not So Bad

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mrv3000 for the beta!

It didn’t take the Doctor long to discover that his half-human qualities manifested in strange ways. For instance, even though he grew tired far quicker with one heart, he still needed a lot less sleep than most people. Meaning that there were long— _long_ —hours he spent staring at the ceiling while Rose snored against his shoulder.

They’d more or less come up with a compromise. He’d let Rose get a full night’s rest (most of the time) and she agreed to become a morning person. (This last part was still a bit of a work in progress). Most of the time, he slept next to her for five hours, dozed for another, and then spent the last one or two staring at her and willing her to wake up.

He didn’t mind, really. There were so many interesting things about Rose to catalogue. Like how many breaths she took in a minute when she was sleeping deeply. Usually he could tell what sort of dreams she was having just from the rise and fall of her chest. (When Rose found out about this habit of his, she claimed to find it “weird and slightly stalker-like” instead of “sweet and romantic.” He stopped telling her about it after that.)

Or he’d go and tinker with their defence systems. Their small London flat wasn’t the TARDIS, but he made sure it was as safe as possible. Even stuck on Earth, they seemed to face a never-ending stream of alien hordes who wanted to kidnap, annihilate, or otherwise turn the planet into alien spawn. Their flat was now so secure, it would be impossible for an alien to sneak up on them without plenty of advanced warning and several booby traps. Actually, they were so well prepared for an alien invasion, it apparently also worked against their neighbour’s cat, which had been a _slight_ design flaw. (But even with the hair loss, Mister Paws seemed to be recovering awfully well.)

But tonight, nothing was working for him. He’d tried two glasses of warm milk, he’d tried snuggling with Rose and was rejected with a kick in the thigh and a mumble that it was “too bloody hot.” He’d even tried counting sheep jumping over a fence, but soon found himself wondering who on earth came up with the concept of counting jumping sheep in the first place. (Really. It was inane. What about jumping elephants? Now _that_ was an interesting thought…)

He sighed, and then did something he was probably going to be very, very sorry for.

“Rose,” he said.

No response.

He nudged her foot with his. She grunted.

“Rose,” he said again, louder this time. She pressed her face into the pillow and turned so that her back was facing him. He sensed her stiffening, but she didn’t say anything.

She’d been doing that all day. Pulling away from his touch. He pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at the ceiling, considering. Finally, he pulled himself up, leaning his back against the headboard and studying Rose’s still shape.

“It’s been a year,” he said. His voice seemed to echo through the quiet of their flat. Outside, he could hear a car backfiring in the distance.

She curled into a ball, somehow managing to put even _more_ distance between them. He tried very hard not to take it personally.

“A year since what?” she replied.

Ooh, she wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He hesitated and then spoke to her back, “Are you thinking about him?” What he wanted to ask was: _Do you still love him_? But he knew the answer to that. Not that it served him much to be jealous of himself, mind. It wasn’t like he had to compete.

Her voice was quiet. “Doctor, can’t we just go back to sleep? We’ve got work to do in the morning.”

“I’m not tired. You?”

“Of course _you’re_ not tired,” she said. He heard a smile in her voice and it made the knot in his chest loosen, just a little bit. She finally rolled over to face him. Her hair was a messy heap around her face, and there was a suspicious hint of moisture in her eyes. He wanted to reach out and reassure her, but he made an effort to keep his hands to himself. She was looking at him. That was a good first step.

“I think about him every day,” she admitted, after a moment. “I wonder if he’s hurting or what planet he’s saving or if he’s even still alive.” She gave him a clumsy smile. “I know he’s probably moved on, but…”

“Yeah,” he said thickly. And then, “Oh, Rose. He’ll think of you, too.”

“Yeah?” she said. She was still looking at him, but her gaze seemed wistful and far away.

“I love you. He loves you. That’s how it works. Besides, I’d know myself better than anyone, don’t you think?”

Rose grinned at him and then sat up, leaning against his arm. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and then reached for his hand.

He felt like he’d won a small victory.

“It’s not really true, though, anymore, is it?” Rose said. She played with his hand, her fingers brushing against his knuckles and wrist.

“How do you mean?”

“Just… you might have been the same, once,” she said. She turned her head to look at him. “But look at you, living this life. With me. While the other you is still out there traveling on his own. It means you’re different people now, yeah? You’re both the Doctor, but… different. I dunno.” She shut her eyes and squeezed his hand. “I’m always going to think about him, you know.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “I’m glad.” And then he added, “I’d give you back the TARDIS if I could.”

“Me, too,” Rose said. They smiled sadly at each other. “Still,” she said. “S’not a bad life, is it? We stay at home, eat chips, watch telly, and save the world from aliens. Could be worse.”

“And we do it together,” he said. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her temple. Rose grinned at his touch and cuddled closer to his arm. He whispered in her ear, “You _are_ happy, aren’t you? That’s what he—that’s what _I_ —wanted most of all.”

“I am, yeah,” Rose said. “Makes me feel a bit wrong, though. Like I shouldn’t be happy when he doesn’t have anyone.”

Not for the first time, he reflected that this other self had been a bit of an idiot. Rose would have spent the rest of her life with him, and he’d sent her away.

Old anxieties about not quite being the man she wanted resurfaced, but he pushed them away. These last few months proved that he wasn’t an obligation for her. He was still her Doctor.

“That’s not your fault,” he said. “And he’ll find someone, Rose. I always did. They won’t ever be you, but that’s good, isn’t it? Everyone brings something new to the TARDIS, changes it in different ways. That’s part of the fun.”

Rose nodded, but didn’t say anything. Her bottom lip trembled once, but then a determined look came into her eyes. She grabbed the top of his shirt and then leaned in to kiss him. Her breath was stale—not quite morning-breath, but getting there—but he happily returned her kiss, letting one hand entwine in her hair.

She pulled away with a wet plop and stared at him, breathing hard. “I’m really glad I have you.”

He grinned at her like she was the most brilliant thing on the Earth. Which she probably was. (Not that he’d tell her. The bragging would likely be insufferable.)

“Me, too,” he said honestly. He opened his arms and Rose fell into them, pressing her ear against his one heart, one hand resting on his chest. She snuggled into him, all excuses about it being too hot and humid apparently forgotten. He pressed his cheek to the top of her hair, arms settling comfortably around her.

Things really were going to be okay.


End file.
